


Duty to the State

by Anonymouslazycat



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: A Lot of People - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Dominion War, Elim Garak Kills People, Espionage, Gen, Sabotage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2693375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymouslazycat/pseuds/Anonymouslazycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak stopped questioning his moral choices a long, long time ago. It just got in the way. But, while on a mission for Captain Sisko, certain issues become very difficult to ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty to the State

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from this exchange, towards the beginning of "The Wire", while they're discussing "The Never-Ending Sacrifice
> 
> Bashir: ...and there's more to life than duty to the state.  
> Garak: A Federation viewpoint if ever I heard one.

Enak Maro sat alone in the mess hall of the ship he had just been assigned to. He was reading a technical manual, but kept glancing at the clock to see how much time he had until his shift started. His role in this crucial assignment was so small as to be practically insignificant, but maybe if it went well enough he’d be one step closer to that promotion he’d been hoping for.

 At the exact same time, in the exact same spot, sat Elim Garak- a trained spy who had managed to infiltrate this ship just before it embarked on a very important assignment. Though pretending to read, he was busy listening in to the conversations around him in the hopes of turning up something useful to report back. He kept glancing at the clock to see how long he had before the main part of his plan could be set in motion. If it went well enough, he might be able to deal a powerful blow against the Dominion.

 Enak Maro, Elim Garak…it all depended on how you looked at it, didn’t it?

 After all, to the people sitting around him, he _was_ Maro. And he fully intended it to stay that way- at least, until he had completed his mission.  

  _His mission._ Sisko’s mission, more like. Sisko had been the one who decided to try and destroy this weapons manufacturing plant. Sisko had come up with the idea of infiltrating a Cardassian freighter in order to do so. And Sisko had been the one to recruit Garak for the job. Who better to hide among Cardassians than another Cardassian? It was the perfect disguise.

 From there on, though, Garak was responsible for most of the details. It seemed that Sisko…well, not _trusted_ him - that would likely never happen- but he at least felt he could _rely_ on him. They both knew what the other was capable of, and just how far they were willing to go. There was even a certain level of respect between the two of them, Garak supposed, though he hesitated to admit it. If someone had come up to him, say, five years ago and said he would someday respect a Starfleet captain, he’d have thought it a little far-fetched. If they had said a Starfleet captain would someday respect _him_? That would have gone beyond far-fetched. He’d have thought they were mad.

 Oh, how things changed. 

 Once more, Garak looked up at the clock. It was almost time for the next shift to start, and the ship would be entering orbit soon after that. Good. Listening in on people’s conversations for strategic information might be faster than decoding transmissions, and less risky than just downloading the ship’s database, but most of the things he learned were completely worthless. Some perfect examples- so far, he had learned that the showers on deck four were broken again, and that a certain Glinn enjoyed boasting about his amorous exploits far more than anyone really ought to. A most irritating personal trait. It reminded him a bit of Dukat, to be honest.

 But the time wasn’t a total waste. At one point, a young woman and her friends- all doctors, judging by their uniforms- had started talking about an attack that was being planned on a Federation base. Apparently, she had been hoping to be assigned to one of the ships involved, but had been passed over in favor of someone with more battlefield experience. Garak had listened very closely to her after that, in case she let anything else slip, but instead she just began telling a story about a battle her father had fought in during the Occupation. She had no idea of how she had inadvertently betrayed her people. She never would. Maybe it was better that way. Not everyone knew how to handle the truth.

 Several people had started to get up and leave, saying they were needed at transporter control, or in the cargo bay, or on the bridge. Garak joined them. Enough of hiding in corners- this was when the _real_ part started.

 While everyone else went off to their posts, Garak veered off in another direction. He was headed for somewhere else, away from prying eyes and- most importantly- for a certain set of auxiliary computers on one of the lower decks. If someone happened to have the right technical knowledge- as well as the right access codes- then they could use those computers to transmit simple messages across limited distances. The distance between a ship and the planet below, for example. It was a trick he had learned back when he was in the Obsidian Order.

 Back when there _was_ an Obsidian Order.

 But that had been a long time ago. Since then, the computer systems had changed more than he would have expected. Time, along with added Dominion technology, made it feel more like working with something alien rather than anything familiar. Silently, Garak cursed himself for not being better prepared. In the past, he would have remembered to account for something like this. Maybe living on that station was making his skills go rusty.

 Thankfully, it still worked. He successfully opened a communications channel to the surface, though it took much longer than he would have liked. There wouldn’t be much time before it was detected, especially with the sloppy way he’d had to reconfigure the circuitry just to make it work at all. He had to move fast.

 The transmission he sent out was deceptively- some might even say _beautifully_ \- simple. A short code that, to the layman, would look meaningless. Pointless. But this code, if aimed just right, would trigger the remote activation systems on several tri-cobalt devices due to be shipped out across the sector by the very freighter he was on. They would detonate, and the whole manufacturing plant would simply…destroy itself. There was a sort of elegance to it all, when you thought about it.

 The panel flickered once, twice, then beeped and shut off. Garak had no idea if his signal had been sent properly, if it had been received properly, or if it had done its job. There was one thing he _did_ know, however. If everything had gone as it should, everyone aboard ship would be searching frantically for what had caused it. And, if that were happening, then standing right at the source wasn’t exactly a good idea. It was time to make his exit.

 Escape was always the most important part of any mission. Over his career in the Order, Garak had seen so many young and otherwise promising agents lost because they foolishly thought that winning was everything. The Order was no place for martyrs- a dead agent was a useless agent, and an agent captured and held in enemy hands was often even worse. And, on this particular mission, Garak had an extra reason for not wanting to be caught- he _knew_ what Cardassian interrogation techniques were like, better than almost anyone else still alive. He had seen what could happen, even to people who thought themselves unbreakable. It didn’t matter who you were. There had been one time, years ago, when a Legate had been caught and arrested for selling military secrets. Tain had, naturally, handed the traitor over to Garak to be questioned. Now, this Legate was a man who had earned his title. He was strong. Resilient.

 And had lasted just over a day before giving in.

 That had been a very long time ago, and Garak had hardly thought about it since. It hadn’t seemed very important at the time. Just another interrogation. Now, though, he couldn’t seem to get it out of his head.

 He began heading back down the corridor. The shuttlebay was three decks up. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, he could reach it without too much trouble.

 However, judging by the guard who had just rounded the corner, that wasn’t going to be the case.

 “You! What are you doing here?”

 Garak stopped short at the harsh, barking voice of the guard. “I thought I detected a signal being sent out from here, sir. I only came down to investigate,” he said, innocently. Always mix a little truth into each lie. It makes them all the more believable.

 Not that it was guaranteed to work _every_ time. The guard was narrowing his eyes, already looking suspicious. Security officers did, as a whole, tend towards paranoia. “We detected the same thing.”

 “Well then! I suppose I was right, wasn’t I? But of course, if _you’re_ here, then there's really no reason for _me_ to be as well. I think I’ll leave this situation in your capable hands, and get back to my station.” He nodded politely and tried, but the guard stood still and didn’t let him pass.

 “You decided to go all by yourself? Trying to impress someone, are we?”

 Garak put on a sheepish face, as if he had been caught at something. “I…just didn’t want to waste any time, sir.” 

The guard still didn’t move. “The signal we detected came from _that_ section.” He jerked his head in the direction Garak had just come from. “Weren’t you going the wrong way?”

 Oh, this wasn’t good. “I went down there, but didn’t find anyone. Whoever did it must have gotten away already.”

 “A saboteur, running loose?” said the guard, still eying Garak distrustfully. “Maybe you should come with me. I’ll take you back to your post. After all, whoever did this is likely dangerous. Would want you to risk such a… _promising_ military career.”

 “I’m sure you have better things to do than escort someone like me around.” Garak answered. “Especially during a crisis. Really, I can handle by myself.”

 “I’m sure you can,” the guard said, slowly reaching for his phaser. “But I insist.”

 In the split second before the guard could pull out his weapon, Garak raised up his fists and brought them down hard on the man’s neck. He collapsed, though whether unconscious or dead Garak wasn’t sure. There wasn’t time to check. Backup would be coming soon.

 He did, however, take the chance to relieve the officer of his gun. Words alone weren’t going to work now. Time for a cruder tactic.

 Just as Garak was standing back up, two more officers approached him- probably led there by the noise. One, as you would expect, was pointing a phaser at him. The other held a communicator.

 “Security! Intruder located! Initiate lockdown on…”

 They both crumpled to the floor, each hit by a point-blank phaser blast. Garak broke into a run, stepping over their lifeless bodies. The guard hadn’t been able to finish his call for lockdown, but that didn’t matter. It would still be traced back to this deck, and everything would be shut down- a few seconds later than it would be otherwise, but not long enough. Even the nearest crawlway hatch was already locked tight by the time he could reach it. Opening it wouldn’t actually be overly difficult- he’d had a lot of practice getting into places where he didn’t belong- but it _would_ give away where he was. Guards would be tracking his movements, ambushing him on every deck, with even more waiting in the shuttlebay in case he managed to make it that far. Not exactly how he would have preferred to spend his day.

 Still, it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice.

 Inside the crawlway was a mess of tunnels, like a mechanized version of a vole’s nest. They branched off in almost every direction, leading all over the ship, sliding doors at the mouth of each one. It was dark, with most of the light coming from faintly glowing computer panels, and the air felt heavy and stagnant. The walls pressed in close, with just barely enough room to allow a person through. Nothing took up more energy, more space, than absolutely necessary. In other words, not the sort of place he wanted to stay for very long. Maybe in some ways it could be safer to make his whole journey entirely in the tunnels- fighting in such close quarters would be tricky, after all, and he doubted that they wanted to take that risk any more that he did- but it wasn’t worth it. He needed to keep his wits about him.

 So he kept going, up to the next deck. Along the way, he made sure to stop and open each sliding door he came across, whether he was going through it or not. It slowed him down, but hopefully it would also be enough to throw them off his path. And it worked- when he left the crawlway, there were no guards there to greet him. At least, not right away. Within minutes he was still swarmed by three armed officers. Bad odds, but beatable. Thank goodness for Tain’s training- although, Garak doubted that Tain ever intended his teachings to be used for _quite_ this purpose.

 It was a similar story for the next two decks. Crawl through the tunnels, battle his way across the deck, then repeat. Along the way, his opponents kept getting smarter and smarter. Closing doors almost as soon as he could open them, so that he had barely enough time to get through without being trapped in them. Taking less and less time to corner him when he left the relative safety of the crawlway. Still, Garak stayed one step ahead. Rule number one- _know your enemy_.

 He didn’t run into any serious challenged until he was almost at the shuttlebay. This time, he knew, there wouldn’t even be the second or two of head start he’d had before. They’d be waiting for him, right there at the door. And more than just one or two of them this time. A phaser wasn’t going to be enough. Time to get…creative.

 His specialty.

 The floor of the crawlway was made up of bolted-down panels, underneath which were tangles of thick wires meant to carry power all through the ship. Backing away far enough from the access hatch so that he would be overheard, Garak used his phaser to cut loose a section of the flooring. He pried it off, exposing the circuitry below, then reached down inside and began pulling out one of the larger coils. One loop, made of two halves screwed together, Detach them, and the current from either side would be enough to knock down a grown man.

 

 He crawled back to the access hatch, no longer trying to be quiet. Now he scraped his boots along the floor, hit the wall with his shoulder, loud enough that anyone standing by the door could hear. After all, he couldn’t very well open the hatch while dragging two live wires, could he? No. That was _their_ job, and they did it admirably. The hatch slid open, and he was faced with a crowd of security guards, standing shoulder to shoulder, all scowling. They aimed. He ducked. They shot. He lunged forwards with the cables. A moment later, they were on the ground. Garak stepped gingerly over their bodies on his way to the shuttlebay. Maybe he could have gotten out of there without killing so many people, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Because, you see, that was where the last piece of the puzzle fitted in.

 All this time, Garak had known that the freighter and its crew couldn’t be allowed to leave intact. When he made his escape, he had to be sure that no one would be coming after him. So, he had had Enak Maro set a series of charges near the engine. They were well-hidden. On a short mission like this, no one would even notice them unless something were to go catastrophically wrong. Which would likely be happening very, very soon.

 One last time, he overrode to computer systems and opened the shuttlebay doors. The failsafes weren’t as strong as he expected- apparently, they didn’t think anyone could get that far. Overconfidence was always a dangerous game. Then, as soon as he was clear, he sent out the command for the charges to detonate and immediately jumped to warp.

 No one followed.

 It had worked perfectly.

  _Perfectly._

 With the adrenaline draining from his body, and his mind no longer solely focused on the completion of his mission, the full weight of what he had just done began to settle on him like a lead weight. Not the spying, not the murder, but the _betrayal._ And it _was_ betrayal, without a doubt. He could try to convince himself otherwise, tell himself that he was fighting against the _Dominion_ , not Cardassia, but it was all a lie. Not even one of his better ones, at that. Because, really, what had the Dominion ever done? Taken other planets and conquered them for its own gain? Forced its citizens to obey under fear of death- or worse? Used brute military force to make all others cower before it? Cardassia’s history was _littered_ with those exact same sins. And it still was. They hadn’t changed. He had. And he just couldn’t bring himself to fight for that Cardassia anymore. No matter how much he wished he could.

 His hand was hovering above the console, about to set a course back to Deep Space Nine, when something made him hesitate. The one big question, the question he had been trying to avoid for so long.

 If he wasn’t fighting for Cardassia…then who _was_ he fighting for?


End file.
